


But One and None Other

by I_Will_Go_Down (ZeroToWeirdo)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dwarf Culture & Customs, I changed a lot of things from the dawn of arda, M/M, Mates, Meddling Valar, One True Pairing, The Valar, Thilbo, True Mates, bagginshield, which is not necessarily a good thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7273024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroToWeirdo/pseuds/I_Will_Go_Down
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“...What if the dream was wrong? What if nothing awaits me there?”</p><p>Thorin could feel three pairs of hands on his shoulders and back, pressing firmly with reassurance and conviction that he did not feel and desperately needed in that time. He could almost hear the smile in Dis’ voice as she said</p><p>“You’ve had the Dream. Mahal has spoken. It is time to meet your One.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	But One and None Other

**Author's Note:**

> Super long Author's note at the end for details on certain plot points. Also, please comment if you have any thoughts, I'm more than happy to respond. :)

Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, descendant of Great Father Durin, leader of the Dwarrows of Mighty Erebor, Slayer of the Pale Orc, Defyer of the curse of Smaug, Oakenshield and Orcrist wielder, Wolfsbane and Dwarrowsboon…is scared to death. The fear he felt when facing the Pale Orc Azog could not compare to the spine-wrecking chill he was feeling now. The insecurity he felt when facing his forefather’s greatest downfall, the curse of Smaug or gold-madness, paled in comparison to his current uncertainty. He was sure, if the ancient hallway were lit by more than moonstone, his shivering would be apparent.

 

As it were, only Dwalin, Balin and Dis were here anyways. “Brother...you’ll have to breathe at some point.” Dis’ (unusually) gentle voice chastised. He found himself gulping in a breath of cool air, surprisingly fresh despite them being miles beneath the mountain. “What is it like, in the Hall?” he asked aloud, in an attempt to distract himself from the long, dark hallway ahead of him.

 

“You’ll see for yourself soon.” Dwalin answered simply.

 

“...What if the dream was wrong? What if nothing awaits me there?”

 

He could hear the brushing of hair on clothes as Balin shook his head, and the soft clucking next to him had to be Dis. They understood his reservations, to a degree, but they also knew that no one thought so lowly of Thorin as Thorin himself, and he did so with faulty reasoning.

 

A hum rang through the air and the moonstones began to pulse to an unknown beat, the dark hallway before Thorin lighting up with speckles of moonstone and illuminating the steps he was to take.

 

Thorin could feel three pairs of hands on his shoulders and back, pressing firmly with reassurance and conviction that he did not feel and desperately needed in that time. He could almost hear the smile in Dis’ voice as she said “You’ve had the Dream. Mahal has spoken.”

 

“It is time to meet your One.”

 

\---

 

Thorin had never felt such peace, nor heard such a full silence. He was used to the empty silence of stone, a sound that was akin to the colour black. This silence felt full of breath and life and thought. He did not want to open his eyes, didn’t want this peace to leave him, but he found himself sitting upright and blearily looking around him.

 

He was in a wood, with tall trees looming overhead. The air was still, not a hint of a breeze pushing through the trees, and Thorin wondered if time had stopped entirely. After a few contemplative moments, he decided to explore his surroundings, when he felt his blood stop in his veins (though whether in fear or awe, he did not know), for before him was a sight beyond compare.

 

Walking at a sedate pace, like a march slowed by contemplation and warring thoughts, was a Great Dwarf. But he was unlike any Great Dwarf Thorin had ever seen in his life, for just the sight of him sent shocks of wonder through Thorin’s bones, and put such a fear and such a love in his heart as he could not describe. The longer he stared at the Great Dwarf, the more he seemed to grow endlessly to fill the sky, only to shrink to the average size of a Dwarf, like a mirage or a trick of the light.

 

As the Great Dwarf walked, his steps grew heavy and shoulder slumped forward in defeat. The ground and trees appeared to groan along to his heavy footfalls, and soon he joined in their chorus, his voice filling the woods with a deep, lonely  groan that pierced Thorin to the core with the familiarity of it. He too shook at the sound and he too wished to groan along in loss for something that never was, for a barrenness in his heart that felt as alien and detestable as it did familiar.

 

The sound grew in pace and clarity till the Great Dwarf lifted his head and gave voice in words his cry, “Eru!”

 

The plea rang like a bell in an empty hall, a single word, a single name, with much behind it. Like an avalanche, Thorin knew where he stood and who he was seeing what he was feeling. Before him stood Durin, or perhaps it was Mahal, and perhaps it as both of them and neither at the same time, but that did not matter, for they shared the same prayer to  Eru Ilúvatar. Their loneliness plagued them and their hearts groaned in their chests for a One.

 

Here stood Thorin, in the Beginning of Arda, and before him walked his forefathers and creators, lone creatures in a world in which they were alone. His heart ached as theirs did for another he did not know.

 

Like a sigh, the groaning ceased and a hush came over them. As though orchestrated by Eru himself, whispering into existence their obedience, the Great Dwarf and Thorin fell to their knees in the stillness, anticipation permeating everything. Though in anticipation for what, Thorin did not know.

 

He soon found out, though, as the ground before the Great Dwarf opened up and through the earth grew a tree. It grew and grew till its branches and leaves nearly filled the sky overhead, spreading its green veil over the forest surrounding till everything was the soft tinge of green, a colour that seemed to fill the Great Dwarf with awe. The tree reached its zenith and ceased growing, its trunk so vast that no storm nor flood nor lightning strike could sway it.

 

Once more in many a times, Thorin’s breath fell short, for from the trunk of the tree, unravelling like a flower in bloom or a babe in swaddling, a person was freeing themselves from the wrappings of the bark. Even as this happened, the Great Dwarf rose to his feet even as Thorin remained kneeling.

 

Before them stood the likes of which the Great Dwarf had never seen before, though Thorin knew what it was. It was a One. It was a Hobbit. She looked as a Dwarf, but slighter and gentler and fairer and kinder. She looked like Thorin’s mother, Mahal help him for he would weep at the thought had he control of his body. And suddenly, with the recognition in Thorin's mind, Thorin saw his father in the eyes of the Great Dwarf’. He saw his grandfather, he saw Fundin, he saw Groin, he saw Ri, he saw Dis and all other dwarves who had come to claim their Ones.

 

Thorin looked away quickly as they stepped forward to reach for each other, for he could not in good conscience intrude on the intimate and sacred moment before him. It was with his eyes closed firmly in this dream that he found himself awakening in his chamber, his siblings and sister-sons around him looking worried. Dis immediately asked him if he had had the Dream, for he had been asleep as though dead for a whole day. They were excited for him, especially Fili and Kili. Dis and Frerin looked relieved, and in a sense Thorin felt so too.

 

Loneliness and hope warred within his chest the entire day leading to night, and his own self doubt did battle with the assurances of his siblings. For all his perceived failures (“I allowed father to die at the hand of Azog...I failed the first test with Smaug.”) they would remind him of the good he had done for his people (“And you avenged our father...and you overcame the curse, which more than our grandfather could claim.”)

 

When the sun had set, he had been brought disarmed and simply dressed to the entrance to the tunnel that had brought Durin to the Hall for the very first time. When the moon had reached it’s zenith, the hallway had lit up and Thorin knew it was time to proceed, and proceed he did. It took hours of spirals and assents and descents till he was truly turned around and lost, unaware if he was going east or west, if he was higher or lower than when he first started.

  
As the moon stones began to grow dimmer, signalling the end of the night, Thorin knew that he was getting close to the Hall. Within minutes, he found a large wooden door, oddly rounded to look like it was circular, with a door knob in the middle. He could just see the slivers of daylight flooding through the edges and the sun had just risen. Thorin held his breath as he reached for the iron door knob, before turning it and flinging the door wide. He was blinded for a moment by the earl morning sun, and once he could see his surroundings, by the beauty of the forest before him.

 

A forest within a mountain had to be the last thing Thorin had expecting, and simultaneously the most amazing thing he had ever ever seen before. Within the arched walls and trees, he found the same full silence that had graced his dream the night before. He found himself walking through the grass until he saw it, in the distance. Yavanna’s tree, as majestic as he remembered from his dream.

 

He approached it hesitantly, unsure of a ritual or something that he was meant to be carrying out. Of all the secrets in Dwarfdom, the secrets concerning the Hall would be the greatest, kept from everyone except those that have the Dream. He hadn’t been told anything aside from ‘follow the moonstones’ and ‘you’ll know what to do when you see’. Treading the grass surrounding Yavanna’s tree felt like sacrilege to the dwarf, but there was nothing for it. He had to get closer. Perhaps his One was somewhere around the tree, or perhaps they would emerge from the trunk as Yavanna did in his vision.

 

Neither theories were correct, he found, when he spotted something shimmering at the base of the tree.

 

Under the arches of the roots, curled up and sleeping soundly, was his Hobbit. The sight of his golden curls splayed on the grass, of his chest rising and falling gently like a summer breeze, brought Thorin to his knees. This was his Hobbit. _His._ His One, his no other. He muttered thanks to Yavanna Kementari and Mahal and Eru Ilúvatar and Manwe and Varda and anyone that might hear and may have played a part, however subtle, in bringing this already beloved creature to him. He was thanking Oromë by the time the golden lashes of his Hobbit began to flutter in waking.

 

“Careful!” he said quickly, suddenly aware of how the roots entangled the Hobbit in a way that would be very tricky to escape. His sudden expletive made the Hobbit look up, and Thorin could almost feel his heart tear at the seems for how quickly it seemed to swell with affection. His eyes were a rich brown, with golds and reds and greens in their depths, an endless spiral of colour and beauty. If the Dwarf’s heart had been tearing from his gaze, it must have exploded when a bright smile lit up his entire face.

 

Thorin barely managed to croak out “Let me help you.” before reaching his hands out to the Hobbit. Without hesitance or fear, the Hobbit took Thorin’s hand in a firm grip and the dwarf found himself helping the little wonder out from under the roots, his footsteps wobbly and unsure. When they were free of the roots, Thorin noticed that the Hobbit was in fact naked. The complete lack of shame on the Hobbit’s part made him wonder at this creature, but really he was too busy taking off his tunic and pulling it over the Hobbit’s head (he made a very annoyed grunt, but pulled the shirt on none the less) to care about cultural differences at this moment. He couldn’t have people talking of him desecrating the Hall, after all, and if he wasn’t allowed to desecrate the Hall he may as well not suffer through temptation.

 

Now that the Hobbit was sufficiently clothed (though the tunic was too big for him, and made him look entirely too endearing) Thorin cleared his throat and asked “I’m Thorin...what is your name?” “I’m Bilbo.” his response was so smooth and instant, that for a moment Thorin wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it altogether. “Bilbo?” he asked, to be sure. Bilbo smiled and nodded. “Thorin.” he answered back cheekily, obviously amused by the somewhat dazed air that Thorin had going on at that moment.

 

“Might...Might I hold you?”

 

Thorin hadn’t expected himself to put thoughts to word at that moment, much less such a strange request, but Bilbo hardly seemed to notice, instead opening his arms gladly and wrapping them around Thorin. The dwarf king  couldn’t stop his legs from giving way (they ended up sitting on the grass with the Hobbit sitting on Thorin’s lap), and his body was shaking as the pent up anxiousness of the day drained from him with the knowledge that his One was here, and that he wanted to be here.

 

They sat in the silence of the Hall, serenaded by  birds singing from the treetops and wind stirring up the grass and leaves. They shifted after a while, lying down on their sides facing each other to better see one another. Bilbo, beardless as most Hobbits were, seemed to be fascinated  by Thorin’s own and was soon running his fingers through the (now rather long) salt-and-pepper strands. Thorin wondered where such a soft creature had come from. Had he been placed there by Yavanna recently? Had he been plucked from Valinor, or from the islands in the West? Had he a home, somewhere other than here, that he yearned for? Thorin had never thought about it when it came to his mother, or his sister’s husband, but now he couldn’t help but be curious of the origin on his One.

 

“Where were you?” Thorin asked gently. Bilbo hummed and continued to run his hands through Thorin’s beard. “I was in a garden.” he said simply. “What were you doing?” Bilbo was clearly amused by the sudden incessant questioning, giving Thorin a mischievous look before standing up. “I was sleeping.” he said and stretched with a sigh. “And now that I am here, I will lay down no longer. Come, husband. Will you not show me my new home?”

 

Husband.

 

Oh, Mahal wept. Mahal wept and was glad.

 

Thorin eagerly stood up and grabbed one of Bilbo’s hands, kissing it quickly before walking along beside his One. He didn’t let go of the small, soft hand in his own and he never wanted to. The Dwarf couldn’t help but be a little worried, however, when he noticed the appreciative look on Bilbo’s face as he surveyed the trees around him.

 

“This will be the last time we see the Hall. I know...that Hobbits love things that grow. We will be living in a mountain, but I promise, I will ensure that you will have every opportunity to see the sun and growing things in your time with me.” Thorin announced, rather suddenly, which simply produced a snort from his One and a reassuring tightening on his hand.

 

“Hush now, you’re getting far too ahead of yourself. I was admiring the trees, not considering eloping with one. I’ll be with you wherever you go. Though I would appreciate seeing the trees whenever you are with me.

 

“How have you been brought to me?” Thorin couldn’t help asking.

 

Bilbo seemed to think for a moment, before muttering “Lonely oceans and lonely shores, and where they meet, are lonely no more.”

 

“I’m not sure I understand. Oceans are more under Ulmo’s jurisdiction, really.” Thorin responded, not quite knowing what to say. He was rewarded with another snort, and a small smack on the chest. It felt like a medal of honour on his breast.

 

“Oceans and shores are great things on their own, so vast and meandering. But in their majesty, they are also lonely, with large expanses of emptiness to fill the thoughtful hours. There is one saving grace to the loneliness...the one thing you can never take away from the Ocean and the Shore are each other. They will always meet at some point, till the day Arda ends.” Bilbo stopped Thorin in his tracks, one had still firmly gripping Thorin’s while the other touched his cheek gently.  “I have been brought to you, Thorin, and you to me because we are simply meant to be brought together.”

 

Thorin was truly in love with this Bilbo.

 

“Now…let’s hurry, I’m hungry.” the Hobbit announced quickly, dragging Thorin behind him in urgency. Thorin knew a feast would await them, and soon there would be kingly things to attend to once more, but he would take the time to dress his One in Mithril and gems, in furs and leathers, anything he should so please. He would feed him till he was full to bursting, he would give him a garden, no, a forest. The entire mountainside of Erebor would be his One’s.

  
After all, concerning Bilbos, there was but One and none other.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this fic was a mess. I made it in 2 hours under the influence of inspiration, so it's....not exactly a polished jewel. I apologise in advance for what you've read.
> 
> Anyways, this came from the brainchild that Yavanna did not exist till Arda was created. Basically, she was in the Ainulindalë and just like the elves, she had a specific time before she could awaken. The dream Thorin had reflects two different instances in time. The first is when Mahal had been creating Arda and grew tired with loneliness, because he had heard such beauty both majestic and minute in the Song, but he found he could not make it so with his own hands. In frustration and loneliness, he realized that he was not the only one that should be building Arda. He also found that none of the other Valar could fill this space, therefore it was not anyone, it was simply one person that could fill this void. He ca called out to Eru to give him his One, his other half, that would complete him. And so Yavanna was awoken.
> 
> When Durin awoke, and among him were the other forefathers, they inherited the creator's spirit of Mahal in creating objects of majesty, but they did not inherit the yearning for something other than what they could craft as Durin did. He walked in the mountains till he found the Hall, where Yavanna awoke, and he called out to Eru, though he didn't know what for. Just as Mahal created the Dwarrow, Yavanna created the Ones. They awaken when they the Dwarrow are ready.
> 
> They get the 'Dream' when they are ready to go to the Hall. Also, the dream had green all around despite there not being any green before Yavanna (she was in the first tree) but that is just because Durin and Mahal's memories overlap. There weren't trees in Mahal's time, but there were trees in Durin's time. Also yes, Yavanna is a hobbit.
> 
> BTW, the Hall is essentially a natural cave formation known as the garden of Eden. This is when a cave roof collapses and takes the foliage from the surface down into the cave, making it like a bowl or a terrarium.
> 
> Images and inspiration came from the [Son Doong Cave](https://speakzeasy.wordpress.com/2015/02/27/son-doong-cave/) in Vietnam.
> 
> I sort of feel like doing a second and third chapter where we see the coming of the ONES through Mahal and Durin's eyes, buuuuut....i don't know yet. This seems like a pretty haywire fic, I'm not sure if a continuation would be necessary.


End file.
